


Part I Into the Valley of Darkness

by Angel Brown (babyhanel47)



Series: The Glass Vine Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, OC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyhanel47/pseuds/Angel%20Brown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vine Mubarak, is a 16 year old girl starting her sixth year at Hogwarts. But what happens when she is taken against her will by none other than Lord Voldemort himself. What plans does he have in store for her? Part I in the Glass Vine Series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part I Into the Valley of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Summary: Vine Mubarak goes back to Hogwarts for her 6th year, but the resonating gloom of knowing that Lord Voldemort is back looms at the back of her head.   
> Pairing: Lord Voldemort/OC  
> Warnings: Mature content in later chapters

Chapter 1 Taken  
“Into the valley of darkness did I linger, into the cold night air,” she says out loud in a lifeless almost hollow voice. She can feel bark and mud under her bare feet. She pants as she continues to walk through the forbidden forest, her pants raspy as if she can’t breathe. She leans against a tree and looks upwards at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. “Almost there,” she thinks.   
“Merlin Vine, what a yer doin’ out here?”Hagrid, the Gamekeeper asks. Vine falls to the ground, blood still caked on her finger nails, her face tear stained and dirty.   
“Get me Professor McGonagall,” she says and everything went dark.  
. . .  
Vine Mubarak is a 16 year old Gryffindor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, with green eyes and black/dark brown hair, she is very becoming. She stands at 5’4, bronze skin, and possesses a very calm demeanor. Anyone who knows Vine knows how absolutely kind she can be and how absolutely witty. So what keeps a young woman like herself up at night? One word, Voldemort, the very thought of Voldemort being back and out to “take over the world” had her on edge. She is to return to Hogwarts tomorrow and is expected to act like nothing happened last year at the Ministry between you-know-who and Harry Potter. She knew it was going to be a difficult year, she could feel it in her gut. One hand around her, an 11 ½ inches, quite flexible, ash with dragon core; wand she turns onto her side to look out the window. The moonlight glows on her windowsill as if beckoning her to come closer. So pulling the covers off of her thin body she walks over to her window seat and sits down, various books adorn the seat and window sill but she wasn’t looking at them but down below out onto the street. She saw them and before she could think, her mother was coming into her room holding a finger to her lips as if to say “quiet”. Vine can feel panic spring through her veins but doesn’t let out a peep. Down below she could hear the sound of crashing and the yells from her father.   
“Avada Kedavra!” could be heard but she knew it did not come from her father’s mouth. Tears instantly spring to her eyes and her mother hurriedly writes on a piece of parchment, and then sends Vine’s barn owl, Romvell into the cold night air. Vine clutches her wand to her chest but she can hear them coming up the stairwell. Her mother stands against the door as if to blockade it with her body but fails as the wizard behind the door blasts the door open. Vine puts her hand up to shield herself from the remnants of what once was her door.   
“Mubarak,” the wizard croaks. Vine’s mother stands, wand outstretched, in front of Vine. The wizard has long silvery hair and ice bluish gray eyes. Vine shudders at the sight of them but doesn’t recoil instead she stands; wand outstretched, and moves to stand by her mother.  
“No, stay behind me,” her mother mutters under her breath. Vine looks at her and obeys.   
“Mubarak,” the wizard repeats.   
“What do you want?” her mother asks. The wizard looks vaguely at the mother but then his cold gaze lingers to where Vine stands and he smirks.   
“The Dark Lord has requested an audience with your family, did you not receive notice of this?” he asks. Her mother scoffs.  
“As if the Mubarak family would stoop so low as to accept the invitation of a villainous half-blood!” she spats in anger. The wizard’s smirk dims and he holds his wand higher.   
“The Dark Lord wants something from you, something we are willing to kill you to get,” he says, his eyes flickering to look at Vine. Vine frowns and furrows her brow but keeps her stance.  
“Not if I get her first,” and then Vine’s mother did something she could never forget; she turned her wand on her own daughter. “I’ll kill her if you come any nearer.” The wizard lowers his wand and looks from her mother to Vine as if contemplating his choices. Vine, bewildered, lets out a whimper.  
“Mom, what are you doing?” she asks in a whisper but her mother doesn’t turn to look at her but moves closer to her, wand still raised and pointed towards her throat.   
“Now let’s not do something rash, lower the wand. The Dark Lord wishes an audience with you, nothing more,” he says putting a hand up as if to say “stop”. Vine’s mother doesn’t let up.   
“You’re lying,” she says, gritting her teeth. The wizard sighs and looks to the other wizards behind him, he nods his head and all Vine sees is a flash of green light and her mother’s wand drops at her feet. She lets out a scream as she sees her mother’s lifeless eyes. The wizard grabs her arm and blindfolds her, guiding her out of the room and downstairs where they disapparate to somewhere unknown.  
. . .  
Vine can’t determine her surroundings but she can smell earth, wood, and dirt. She doesn’t speak and she refuses to move but someone pushes her along and she follows, trips a couple of times but manages.   
“You keep resisting and you’ll only get hurt,” she can hear his voice, the silver one, say into her ear. She knows his voice by now, all ice and chills down her spine. Her foot hits something solid and she realizes she is walking on solid ground, perhaps a sidewalk or a driveway. She can hear the clatter of boots on all sides of her, now she can’t recall just how many of them there were. She tries to piece their names in her head but she can’t seem to remember. She hears the click of a door opening and she’s getting pushed past a threshold, she can feel a gust of cool air and lets out a gasp. The blindfold is taken off and she finds herself looking into a grand estate, that of a rich man. She gets a good look at the silver one and finally pieces his name together, Lucius Malfoy, Draco’s father. She looks at him in disgust and turns around to run only to see more wizards blocking the entranceway. Sensing her resistance, Lucius Malfoy grabs her arm and leads her through an entryway. “The Dark Lord is waiting.” She struggles against his hold on her arm but his grip is too tight and strong. She’s being pushed into a dark room and the door is closed behind her.  
“Let me out!” she yells, banging on the door.  
“Don’t shout,” she stops and freezes. A shiver goes down her spine and she can feel her heart beating fast. She turns slowly around only to come face to face with a man, no not quite a man, a disfigured face of a wizard who can only be known as Voldemort. She gulps and places her hands against the door as if to further distance herself from him. He smiles menacingly at her and stands. He walks in an arc as if surveying her, looking her up and down, and then straight into her eyes as if staring into her soul.   
“Let me go,” she says her voice barely above a whisper.   
“Now why would I do that?” he asks her. She lets out a low whimper as he comes closer.  
“I need young blood like you, strong, beautiful, and pure blood like you,” he says inches from her face. She shudders and recoils.  
“For what?” she asks, her voice shaky. He runs a finger across her cheekbone and he smiles at her, not really a smile but something vile as if a snake were ready to spring.   
“For my army,” he says.   
. . .


End file.
